


wanna be yours

by tsunderestorm



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, M/M, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 05:52:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10803069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsunderestorm/pseuds/tsunderestorm
Summary: Noctis initiates his Crownsguard in the throne room at the Citadel, but it is later in his bedroom that the bonds are truly sealed. One by one, they come to him and profess him as theirs, and they has his.





	wanna be yours

**Author's Note:**

> Quick, everyone love on Noctis. It's what he needs it.
> 
> I wrote this because I really just wanted to see all of them just lavishing attention on Noctis, really. It was fun to explore the different ways they all act with him _and_ throw in that tasty little reminder they're at the end that they're one huge polyship, to me. ;)
> 
> (I chose not to tag it with the polyship, however, because while it's implied heavily it's not the focus and I didn't want to disappoint anyone looking for that content.)

On Noctis’s twentieth birthday, they are officially named his Crownsguard. Like the king he will one day become, he calls them into the throne room and lines them up in their black garb, presented before him on the dais with Regis watching from behind. Stiff, formal; everything he is not, that _they_ are not in their relationship, unconventional as it is. Prompto’s boots squeak when he kicks nervously at the tile floor and Noctis muffles a laugh behind his hand, not missing the way Ignis’s gaze flicks briefly to him in reproach. His breath fogs the metal pins he has clutched in his palm when he laughs, gifts for his boys and he supposes the kiss of his breath on the embossed Bahamut that they’ll each wear is representative enough of the fact that the three men are more than just his guards-to-be, even more than just his friends.

This is who he wants. Who he's chosen: two with formal training and one without. Ignis, with his gentle advice (and constant indulgence); Gladio, steadfast and strong, loyal to a fault; Prompto, eager to please and the embodiment of kindness itself. All with hearts of gold, all who hold Noctis’s heart in their hands. It's not an easily-given prize or something he's in the habit of sharing, but these three are special. _Today_ is special. There's a feeling in the air; a crackle of electricity, something that makes the hair on the nape of his neck stand on end. A nervous, excited energy that's settled itself like a blanket over his body and made his nerves vibrate with it. He’s hyper-aware of everything: every sight seems sharper, every scent stronger.

He’s not good at all this political stuff. This is a tradition as old as the Lucian line itself, private but no less important and even though Ignis had coached him on the proper amount of seconds he's required to let them bow he's already eagerly anticipating when this is over, when he can be _Noct_ with them and not _Highness_. Cor and Clarus are on either side of his father, watching him like stoic statues and Noctis’s feet feel inelegant and clumsy as he steps down the staircase to his men knelt below. He knows Clarus still harbors his doubts as to Prompto, but if it's a battle for who he loves then Noctis would fling himself at an immovable object for years and years to win the fight.

When he bids Prompto to rise, he’s shocked by the expression on his face - like a sunshower, beautiful and unexpected, lit up like midday, beautiful like a rainbow after a storm. His eyes are brimming with tears as he mouths _thank you_ , bounces a little on the balls of his feet like he wants to say more, _do_ more. Noctis is distracted for a few long seconds by his chapped lips, the way his tongue darts out to lick them like he always does before they kiss and he can already taste Prompto’s mouth on his, hot and wet and nothing but sloppy tongue and teeth. _Later_ , he thinks as he tucks the pin into the lapel of Prompto’s jacket, refusing to meet his eyes because he knows they'll both lose focus. _Later._

He summons Gladiolus to his feet second, and when the man raises his gaze to his Noctis can't help the shiver that snakes down his spine. His Shield’s eyes are deep and dark, hot amber burning into his soul the way he’s so disturbingly good at. There’s gratitude and love, there – but also something more, something _triumphant,_ a smug satisfaction as he formally takes his place in the destiny he was born for, raises his chin so Noctis can affix the pin to his collar. Noctis notes the way his hands clench into fists at his sides, fingers twitching against a crease in his formal uniform pants like he wants to reach out and touch him, wants him to but knows he can't, not right now. He wants to hold those hands in his, to lace their fingers as he curls his thighs around Gladio’s hips, to tell him with his body what he can't say with words.

Ignis is looking at the floor when he stops in front of him, ever obedient and well trained in ways of greeting royalty. Noctis almost drops the last pin as his fingers twitch nervously, catches the smooth metal in his fingertips at the last second. It would be all too easy, he knows, to reach out and run his fingers through Ignis's soft hair, muss the careful styling and draw him to his feet and against him. To drag him into the kiss he so desperately wants, to let Ignis take the lead like he always does and sink into the feeling of forgetting for a while who he is. _Later,_ he tells himself again. Later he'll kiss Ignis so desperately their breaths become each other’s air, bruising and hungry and everything he wants.

When Noctis bids him rise there is a look passed between them, something deeper, something the word _devotion_ could never even hope to adequately cover. It flashes in his eyes, secret and unnoticed by anyone else in the room - they have long-since mastered the quiet conversation of a hidden relationship, the art of saying nothing and meaning everything. Noctis feels a warm heat settle into his belly, not quite lust but so close that it almost makes him sick with it, dizzy and disoriented before be remembers where he is and who he's with. _He wants them_ , he thinks as he sets the last pin into fabric, thumb stroking the line of Ignis’s jaw for the briefest of seconds because the urge to feel the familiar heat from his skin is so strong it’s overpowering. To his credit, Ignis does little more than suck in a sharp breath and nod his head in thanks, flick his gaze to Noctis for the briefest of seconds, making his skin prickle sharply, hot all over.

“Later,” Noctis murmurs as he centers himself once more before them, looking from one to the other as he bites his lip and smiles afterwards, teeth dimpling his skin. He _knows_ they can read his expression as loaded as it is, grateful for the fact that his father and his guards can't see the desire he knows is burning in his eyes as he looks at his lovers. It’s so quiet it’s almost inaudible, a whisper in secret for the three of them: “I want you all in my room.”

\--

_Later_ is after nightfall, the three of them crowded into the living area outside Noctis’s bedroom at the Citadel. Noctis still has his apartment just outside the palace but his luxurious rooms seem appropriate for tonight - he might not want the duties that come with his royal status but he tends to like some of the perks. It’s not like it’s the first time that all of them have been together like this, but something about it feels _different_. Things are official now: the clothes Noctis’s hands will strip them of aren’t everyday outfits to be tossed on the floor of his apartment, they’re Crownsguard uniforms, they’re _special_.

“Don't undress until I call for you,” Noctis says, though he himself is dressed down - a thin t-shirt and clingy boxer briefs, both black against his pale skin. “Oh, and don't undress. Don’t touch yourselves.”

Dumbfounded, they stare at him for a moment from their spots around the room - Ignis sitting on the couch, Gladio leaned handsomely against a bookshelf, Prompto pacing the room, hands clutched in front of his crotch because _of course_ he’s the one already over-eager, the one who knows what he’s here for. Cute, the way his excitement bubbles over into every facet of his body language - the way he licks his lips, the way he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, fidgeting as he rubs the heel of his hand against his dick through his pants. He’s not listening, but it’s no surprise, and Noctis doesn’t really mind.

Not when he wants Prompto first, with his smile like the sun and his desire so strong he can smell it even over the cloying scent of his cologne (the expensive kind in the black bottle, the one Ignis had bought him for his last birthday) that's settled into the back of his throat. He’d thought about the four of them, all together for tonight, but his mind had changed somewhere between the three of them knelt before him as one unit and the way they'd each looked at him, something private and unique and special, just for him.

He'll start the night with Prompto first. Prompto, who is still in shock, whose uniform is fitted to his thin limbs like a second skin but he still manages to look out of place in the room he’s only been in once or twice. Noctis sits down cross-legged on the fresh sheets, tilts his head to the side and says: “Come here,” and Promoto does, falling over himself to cross the few steps to the bed. He stops beside it, heels together, hand over his heart and mouth pursed in what he thinks is stoic concentration, and Noctis laughs again.

“What are you doing?” A simple question, a lighthearted one, teasing as he looks him over. He looks so good like this, standing tall and proud for once, dick undeniably straining against the confines of his pants. Noctis wants it, wants to touch him, feel him, _anything_ as long as it makes Prompto pant against him.

Prompto swallows thickly, trying to formulate a response. “Trying not to fuck this up, Noc - I mean, _Your Highness_.” Noctis catches the way his pupils blow wide when he looks him over, hungrily devouring every inch of smooth, lean muscle that Gladio teases him for. He mouths “perfect” when he does it and Noctis feels his skin flush, heat spreading onto his cheeks and neck to match the hot desire pooling between his legs, making his own cock swell.

Noctis uncrosses his legs and rests them on his bedspread, inviting Prompto into the space between them. He lets his hands rest behind him, stretched out and exposed as he says “Prompto, please. I need you. I don't want you as my crownsguard right now. I want you as my friend.” _My lover_ hangs unspoken in the air, falls on Prompto like rain to drought-ridden ground and he drinks it in desperately.

Prompto is over-eager, giddy on the feel of this, of him, of _everything_ \- shrugging his jacket off his shoulders and tugging his shirt over his head so swiftly it destroys his styled-that-way messy hair. He trips as he steps out of his boots and tight leather pants, tossing them aside and following them with his underwear.

“You really want me?” Prompto asks as he crawls over him, hands finding purchase in the bedspread near Noctis’s on either side of him, cock jutting eager between his legs as he inches closer. “Like, for real?”

Noctis nods, lips curling into a smile just as Prompto kisses him. It’s messy just like be thought it would be - just like always - chapped lips and tongue and teeth, licking into Noctis’s mouth as he practically _whimpers_ “I love you”, repeats it like a mantra.

It’s not the first time Prompto has been on top, but the times that he has are certainly outnumbered by the times he hasn’t. He’s not particularly skilled, Noctis thinks, not in the way that Gladio and even Ignis are, but he makes up for it in sincerity, in the way his hands skitter nervously up Noctis’s legs as he bends them at the knee and hooks them around his hips. The way he asks “this okay?” when he rubs lube-slick fingers across Noctis’s hole, the way his moan matches the prince’s as he sinks inside, eyes squeezed shut because it feels like heaven for both of them.

“You’re so cute,” Prompto gasps as he does it, his quick little rabbit-fucks, hips moving in fluttery motions as he buries his face in Noctis’s neck. “So pretty, gods, you feel so good. Wanna protect you, wanna love you ‘til I die, wanna be _yours_ \- “

The proclamation is what Noctis was after. He’s always been a bit selfish, he supposes - a character flaw, selfish and bratty. He wants the three of them to be _his_ , wants to hear them _say it_ when they’re inside of him, so deep and close and intimate they’ll never forget. Wants to give himself in return, the least he can do, to tell them he's theirs as much as they're his.

Not that they’ll live and die for him (that, he knows, is an unfortunate truth he hopes never comes to be) or that he wants to own them like pieces of private property, just that they’re _his_. So simple in his mind and so damn difficult out loud, not something he could ever say with how bad his words fail him when he feels something too strongly, just that they love him as much as he loves them.

It gets to him, the soft way Prompto says it: face tucked into the arch of Noctis’s flushed neck, lips moving frantically against his skin as he pants it. He’s fighting back pleased tears and it makes his entire body shiver, sends a shudder down Noctis’s spine that makes him bend against him. A perfect, flush press of their forms together, hand in Prompto’s messy hair as he arches sharply when he comes onto their tense stomachs, making a mess of the planes where their skin meets.

“Oh man, _fuck_ , me too, me too -” he pants as he follows shortly after, his hips an erratic rhythm and sharp, deep thrusts punctuating his words. Noctis’s hand in his hair tightens as he comes, pulling him close as his other hand finds Prompto’s lower back, running smooth circles as his body stills.

“So good, Prompto…”

Prompto kisses him breathless and damn near delirious afterwards, mumbles “thank you,” as he hops out of bed and back into his clothes. Coyly, he winks as he asks “Gladdy next?”

Noctis, still high on it, eyes unfocused and body gone boneless nods and says “Yeah, send him.”

\--

It takes no time at all for his Shield to make his presence known, interrupting the dreamy way Noctis is running his hands over his skin, fingertips feeling out the places Prompto’s touch still lingers, the places waiting for Gladio and Ignis to leave their mark. He strides in arrogant, cock leading the way - thick and heavy against his thigh with his pants and underwear tugged out of the way to show it off. His dick is unashamedly hard, foreskin pulled back to expose the head, flushed dark and shiny with precum.

“I thought I told you not to undress.” Noctis chides teasingly with a blissed-out yawn, lifting himself just slightly on arms that are still shaky.

“Clothes are still on, _Highness_ ,” Gladiolus offers as he reaches down to palm over his cock and dammit, he's right. Of course Gladio would be the one to find a loophole, all disciplined and focused when it suits him but nowhere close in the bedroom. Noctis is used to his lack of patience, his hands that are heavy and demanding but never rough, the dirty things he says to him when he wants and doesn't immediately get. This is as little of a surprise as Prompto's earlier presumptions and just as welcome and Noctis doesn't even want to tease him, today. Normally it's as much of a challenge as their sparring matches, a test of who'll cave first but he's only just begun the night and he wants _more._

He takes a moment to admire him from the advantageous position that he has: handsome is a good word for his strong features and sculpted body, _hot_ is a little more his nature and straight to the point. Gladio’s jacket, already unzipped when he came in comes straight off followed by the shirt, boots kicked under the bed, left standing in just his leather pants. When he folds the fabric back Noctis can see his balls against his thigh, heavy and full and it rips a moan right out of his throat, thinking about how they'll feel against him.

Noctis rolls over onto his belly the way Gladiolus likes him; spreads his legs and tilts his ass up enough to be inviting, glad for the excuse to hide the flush that's crept into his cheeks that's all embarrassment and no lust. The position is exhausting to maintain, but he won’t have to support it for long - not when Gladio’s strong arms will hook under him from above, from behind, holding him as he fucks inside. Glancing over his shoulder to his Shield standing in the doorway, he says “Why?”

Gladiolus doesn’t even take off his pants in the end, and Noctis considers briefly what the royal tailors who fitted him for it stopped to consider the feats of sexual strength he’d exhibit while in it. He pushes his pants down his hips, low on his thighs, gives his swollen cock and heavy balls the freedom they truly need to give his prince what he wants and Noctis can _feel_ it rather than see it when he does, can feel it in Gladio’s huff of breath and the self-satisfied chuckle he does. He mounts Noctis as he’s done a dozen times, slots behind him and takes hold of his hips with practiced ease, arches him how he wants and Noctis allows it, invites it; folds his arms under the press of his forehead against the messy sheets and smiles to himself.

Gladio’s cock fits just as easy as ever into the smooth channel between his thighs, bumps against his tender balls and his already recovered cock. His thighs are smooth and nearly hairless, Noctis thinks, so unlike the coarse hair on his Shield’s lower half, the only place he won’t wax it off. He’d feel self-conscious, maybe, if Gladio didn’t grunt out his appreciation as he fucks the squeeze of his legs together with a thumb circling over the eager clutch of his hole, telling him without words he appreciates the offer Noctis makes, _is_ for him. He laughs when Noctis’s body tries to draw him inside, hole slick and sensitive, begging to be filled with more than just a few rough fingers. Noctis stops to throw the briefest of glances over his shoulder and he's glad he does: catches Gladio’s brows furrowed together in concentration, mouth open as he pants, the muscles in his stomach tense and practiced as he fucks against him.

“It’s a good thing Prompto took his time with you,” Gladio says, plunging his thumb inside to feel the velvety softness inside that slack little space, wet with lube and Prompto’s eagerly-given cum. “Because after that little stunt you pulled making us wait, I’ve just about lost my patience. If you weren't so hot like this, I’d be inside you already.”

“Implying you _had_ patience in the beginning,” Noctis scoffs as he rests his forehead back on his crossed arms, rocking his hips back into Gladio’s touch, the slow, teasing fuck of his big thumb into his hole. “Why aren't you?”

Gladiolus doesn’t dole out compliments easily, but as he drapes his body over Noctis’s and lets his dick fuck up the cleft of his ass, he says “You really do look pretty like this, poised to take a dick."

“Did you read that in one of your novels?” Noctis teases. “I think that’s the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me.”

Gladiolus doesn’t reprimand his teasing tone, just bites down on his shoulder and soothes it with a kiss as he lets his cock slide out from the sticky channel of his thighs and Noctis drops his weight, spreads his legs around Gladio behind him and thinks _yes, finally_. Gladio’s mouth moves gently on Noctis’s skin as he presses the head of his cock inside, stretching his pliant hole around the impossible girth of him, allowing him to really feel each inch as he feeds it into his body with rolls of his hips.

When Noctis starts humping back against him Gladio draws him up to kneeling, pulls Noctis against him with thin back to broad chest as he fucks into him slow and deep. His hand rubs the length of Noctis’s body, from the shaking insides of his thighs to his drooling cock, the pulled-taut muscles of his flat stomach, the hardened buds of his nipples. He plays his fingers over the sharp jut of his collarbone, the elegant arch of his neck, leaves his hand there, letting him feel the heavy weight of it around his throat until it makes him dizzy.

Noctis twines his arm up over his head, links it around Gladio’s neck to curl into the soft, sweaty strands of dark hair on his neck and shoulders, practically hanging off of him as he gets taken. Like this, it’s easier for Gladio to whisper in his ear, for him to say the things he’ll only say in the height of passion – “I love you, Noct,” he pants, breath hot and damp against his already feverish skin. “I’d die for you, gods, Noctis, I’ve never been anything but _yours_.”

His orgasm on Gladio’s cock tears through him sharper and harder than with Prompto. Like so much else with Gladiolus, it pushes him to his limits, doesn’t give him a chance to see it coming before he’s knocked flat on his ass with the force of it and that's how he likes it, likes to be fucked so thoroughly he can't think straight, pushed past the point where he thinks _I couldn't possibly be fuller_ when Gladiolus comes inside him. He swears it feels like too much, like it must be settling somewhere in his belly by now with how _deep_ it's gotten, filled him to bursting.

Gladio lays him down on the bed after he's finished, knees and elbows before Noctis flops over to look up at him as the older man dips down to kiss him. Noctis moans into it, parts his lips easily for the slow, gentle thrust of his tongue, lets him claim his mouth the same way he’d claimed his body. “Thanks,” he murmurs into the kiss as his hand comes up awkwardly, rubbing Gladio’s sweaty bicep, his broad shoulder, curling around his neck again so he doesn't have to let go, so the kiss can continue.

“I’ll send in Iggy,” Gladio says as he fastens his pants and scoops up his boots and jacket, winking at him from the doorway before he leaves.

\--

Noctis has saved Ignis for last: the best, the brightest. Silently, only to himself, _the one he loves the most._

“Gods,” Ignis says the moment he enters the room. He’s still fully dressed and Noctis has no shame in the way he looks him over as he crosses the length of the room to the lavish bed. His face, green eyes dark behind the lenses of his glasses, handsome. His physique, honed after years of training, lean and dangerous in a way that even Gadio is not – unassuming. He’s hard, cock straining against the tight leather pants and Noctis sits up higher on his pillows, reclines back against the headboard and lets his legs fall apart and bend at the knee. He’s sure he's a mess - sweaty, a mix of Prompto and Gladio’s cum leaking out of his ass - he hopes Ignis likes it.

“Undress for me.” It takes a few long seconds for Ignis to respond, eyes too fixated on the sight splayed out before him – Noctis, blissful and fucked out, flush high on his cheeks and body covered in hickeys from Prompto’s eager kisses and fingerprints from Gladio’s greedy grip. “Want you to make love to me.”

The words sound foolish out loud, over-sentimental even on the night he wants them all special. He’d turned them over and over in his mind before he said them, imagining how they'd taste, how Ignis would react and he's rewarded with the most curious expression: part love, part lust, his eyes so dark they're more black than green as he looks him over and a smile plays across his soft lips. “Very well, my prince. _Noctis.”_

Ignis takes his time as he divests himself of his new uniform. The jacket and shirt are removed and folded neatly on a chair beside his bed, boots tucked out of the way beneath it. He strips off his pants completely and stands in his underwear and Noctis’s eyes follow the line of his cock, hard and damp through the fabric and just when he’s about to tell him _take it off, I can’t bear it,_ Ignis slides the last scrap of fabric down his legs and climbs over him.

Noctis’s arms finds Ignis’s shoulders immediately, fingers trailing over his back, pathways he’s created years ago, nails digging into skin. “ _Please_ ,” he asks, nothing more as he looks into his eyes, finds nothing but love and adoration there.

“I love you,” Ignis says, his forehead against Noctis’s, lips inches apart. “I love you, I love you. My hands are yours, my body is yours, my _life_ is yours - “

Noctis shivers, slides a hand up the nape of Ignis's neck to curl into his soft hair as Ignis says “But I know that you’d rather just have my heart.”

He needs barely any further lubrication to work his cock inside the eager, quivering clutch of Noctis’s body, an easy slide through old lube and their other lovers’ cum. Noctis nearly sobs when Ignis bottoms out, when he’s given all he has to give and they’re as close as they’ll ever be, cries it into his mouth because Ignis filling him feels like _home_.

He’s weak and tired, damn near boneless as Ignis holds him, rests on his elbows and works his hands under Noctis’s back so he can hold him against his chest. His blunt fingernails sink into Noctis’s shoulders as he shudders against him, match the way Noctis’s fingers dimple the smooth skin of Ignis’s back as he moans against his mouth, not quite kissing as much as just making sure their mouths are together, that their breath becomes each other's just like he’d wanted. It's soft and sweet, the perfect finish to the night but there's a ferocity there, a desperation in the smooth, calculated rolls of the man's hips, something Noctis can't get enough of.

Together, they chase their pleasure like giddy children chasing the last of the sun’s rays in the day for play, climbing higher and higher and daring _don’t fall_ , but they’ve already fallen. The room is filled with the sound of skin on skin, of the rustle of blankets, the sound of muffled moans. Noctis cries out softly when he comes, voice hoarse and thick with desire, squeezing his arms tightly around Ignis's shoulders to hold him against him as he finishes too, buried to the hilt inside him.

“If anything were to happen to you, I - “ Ignis says as he cards his fingers through Noctis’s damp hair afterwards. They're face to face on pillow, flushed cheeks against rumpled fabric and looking into each other's eyes.

Noctis silences him by pressing a finger to his lips. “Nothing’s going to happen to me. I have a damn good Crownsguard.”

“You're damn right you do.” Gladiolus affirms as he leans against the doorframe, stripped to his boxers and eyeing the bed for the best place to join in. Prompto peeks around him, darting past and slotting in so his head rests on Noctis’s hip, curled at the foot of the bed where the sheets have been pushed to and making himself comfortable. He looks up at him and grins, pleased when Noctis disentangles a hand from Ignis and ruffles his hair, leaves his hand to rest on his shoulder. Gently, subtly affectionate. Gladiolus takes his favorite place spooned up behind him, the bulk of his body curled around Noctis’s lithe frame, a hand on his hip.

Noctis likes this - the way they can all fit here, the way they make his too-big bed feel comfortable for once. He likes the way Gladio’s hand moves over his tender belly and curl comfortably into Prompto’s hair, the way Ignis’s hand on his back leaves for just a moment to lie flat against Gladio’s chest in silent appreciation. 

“We love you, Noct,” Ignis says what all three of them are thinking, kissing his strands of sweaty hair stuck to his forehead before resting his cheek against it. Noctis doesn't answer because he's already asleep, but a soft smile stretches across his lips.

**Author's Note:**

> oops, the ignoct part ended up being the shortest despite it being my favorite relationship of any combinations of the four. :\ still good, though, I hope!


End file.
